Scorch Song (Firebloods Book 2) Page 4

  “Hey.” He draws me up against him, and I relent, too emotionally charged to fight his embrace. “I just want to keep you out of it, Jude.”

  “I’m already in it.” I focus on him, exasperated. “Don’t you get that? You wouldn’t have been at Spooner Lake the other night if it weren’t for my science project. And if you hadn’t been there, you wouldn’t have seen Rylin, so you wouldn’t have flared. And you certainly wouldn’t have had to compel Frankie and Jonas to cover your tracks. I wouldn’t know that you or I or anybody else was a Fireblood, and life would be cozy and sweet. But that’s not what happened, and so you don’t get to shut me out.”

  His lips part, just a tiny motion as he takes it all in. The place is bustling with the dinner rush, but suddenly, it’s just Kane and me. It’s all I see.

  “It’s too late to turn back. I know what I am, which makes this our problem.” I take a hold of his tee shirt just at the waistline and tug. “Yours and mine. So what are we going to do about it?”

  He just looks at me. And then a soft chuckle causes his eyes to crinkle. “Well, I guess… we’re going to try not to blow it.” I open my mouth to say more, but he shakes his head, placing a finger over my lips. “None of this is your fault. I take full responsibility.”

  I’m suddenly very aware of the clinking of dishes, a cook hollering that his order is up, and my heartbeat racing through my bloodstream. And the scent of vanilla. It’s suddenly everywhere.

  “Kane,” I breathe.

  I say his name because I want to feel it leave my mouth. Because I can’t feel anything else at the moment, not with my compelled ring choking out everything inside me that has become my reality. I tap my fingers against his chest, a glint of ruby smearing with the motion, and I’m tempted to slide it off right here. The pull of the Fireblood grows. I can taste it in my blood, and now that Kane is so close…

  Sensing this, he brushes his fingers along my cheek.

  “Do you want to take a ride?” he whispers, a golden twinkle sparking in one eye.

  “Yes.” My nerves tingle with excitement as my hope of getting out of my own skin rises. “McEwen Creek?”

  He smiles. “You got it.”

  We leave a ten dollar bill on the table, and hands still clasped, we get out of there before the heat of our joint emotions can betray us.

  Sonata

  Kane and Jude

  “What does a dream feel like?”

  The question sits with me a minute. Confused. I’ve never been asked it before.

  “Do you mean… just for me?”

  His chest expands and sinks under my cheek.

  “For anybody. Firebloods don’t dream.”

  I ease up to meet his eyes.

  “Wow. Really?”

  He smiles. “Really.”

  “Never? You’ve never had a dream?”

  “Never,” he repeats again. “So tell me.”

  I think.

  “Sometimes, it feels like real life, I guess. Depends on how vivid it is. Other times, nothing makes sense. Kind of like my life right now.”

  He laughs, then grows serious.

  “You were dreaming a bit ago, and I was there.”

  I sit, staring down at him where he lies. His wings flutter up, giving me room.

  “We were at Club Rockhouse.” He brushes his fingers along my arm. “Dancing. It felt like the same night you kissed me. Strange. And you kissed me again. But then all of a sudden, you had a red balloon. You blew it up and let it go to fly all over the club. People stopped dancing to clap. And they crowded around us, wanting your autograph.”

  My mind sweeps over the dream; I laugh.

  “See? It makes no sense.”

  “Dreams are strange,” he concludes.

  “You just described my dream to me. Now that’s strange.” A tilt of my head. “You were really there?”

  “Sort of. Not… physically.” He struggles a minute with how to word it. “It was like… I was conscious of what you were dreaming. And you were conscious of me, so you let me in.”

  “Well, I wasn’t there physically either, if you want to know the truth.” A pause. “So I let you in, did I?”

  He nods. “That’s never happened before. Then again, you’ve always been camouflaged. Maybe that’s why.”

  I ease forward, snuggling into his chest. “So what did my dream feel like for you?”

  “I felt… free.”

  “Then there’s your answer.”

  Four

  The headlights of the oncoming traffic charge toward us and whiz past in a swirl of night wind, each car possessing a dual pair of glowing eyes. I-580 is busy tonight. I tuck myself more tightly against Kane’s back, firmly planting this ride into my treasure chest of sweet memories. The future is always uncertain, but tonight, it feels overwhelmingly so, and until Monday has come and gone, I won’t rest easy. And I won’t take one single moment with Kane for granted.

  Kane veers his bike off the interstate onto Hobart Road. A few more minutes, and he pulls up next to McEwen Creek… to the exact deep, dark and isolated spot where he first showed me his wings. He cuts the engine. The moon shines a brilliant yellow through the trees, casting long shadows everywhere. I slide off the back of the bike and deposit my helmet on the ground.

  “I’ve decided this is one of my favorite places on earth.” I take two steps toward the creek as it babbles its lullaby in the sudden harsh silence.

  “Oh, yeah?” Still seated, Kane removes his helmet and props it against his leg. His smile creeps in. “And why is that?”

  “Because I think of it as our place now.”

  I face him. His smile deepens. I slip off my ring and hold it out for him.

  “See how you are?” He shakes his head in mock disappointment. “Luring me out here to use me for my decamouflaging skills.”

  “You knew what was coming.” My voice is breathy, my eyes pleading. “Maybe you’ve made a monster out of me.”

  “Or an angel.”

  On that note, I slide on my best smile and let go of the ring. It falls from my fingertips, but reflexes sharp, Kane is ready. His hand snaps into motion, the ring hits his palm, and disappears into his clenched fist. His sultry, crooked smile is accompanied by a shifting heat that radiates from his body to warm the air between us and around us and above us. It encases us like a private, invisible bubble. He’s just as anxious as I am to shed our disguises and burn up the night. When he encircles my waist and draws me to him, right up close—nose to nose and lips to lips—I’m smothered in the musky smell of his Fireblood desire. Suddenly, I’m desperate to grab hold of it.

  He hesitates, and I pull back to look at him.

  “What?” I read his eyes; he’s having second thoughts. I curl my fingers, clutching his shirt in two tight fists, and lean in with my whispered plea—soft and alluring. “Please. I’ve been waiting all day.”

  It’s a dirty trick, but it works. Inside the heat, my camouflage begins to unravel like rose petals falling off a stem one by one. It staunches my breath.

  The sensation isn’t quick, but it isn’t slight either, not like the times I’ve absentmindedly left my ring on the edge of the kitchen sink. At those times, I never noticed the difference; the change was so gradual. Tonight, with Kane’s help, it’s slow but so absolute that I can actually distinguish the shift of every molecule in my body as it takes on a new shape. I blaze up like a lit torch, the white light racing over every inch of my body, and I close my eyes and allow the warmth to seep in. I push away from Kane to study my glowing palms, each life line burning a path, and a squeal of joy escapes me. Kane’s quiet laugh tingles in my suddenly sensitive ears. And the creek babbles an even more distinct song. Beautiful.

  The light burns deep beneath the surface too, boiling in my blood, and I feel like I could do anything. I feel immortal. I feel power in my veins, and even though I don’t have wings, the source surging through me makes me believe I could fly. And then, my mantra, from deep in the recesses of
my soul, awakens and reaches for me, teaching me who I am all over again.

  Kane sits on his motorcycle, an arm resting on the helmet in his lap. He gazes at me like I’m some sort of a goddess that has miraculously come to life right before his eyes. I’ve seen the look before. The first time was a week ago. We were baking cookies in my kitchen, and I took off my ring and dropped it into the soap dish, forgetting about it for the rest of the night until he slipped it back onto my finger. But not before his eyes glazed over, just like now.

  And tonight? I don’t think he’ll be slipping that ring back onto my finger any time soon. Not if I have a say in the matter.

  I take one step, touch his forearm. He catches my hand in his grip and tugs me close.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers.

  His eyes burn with flames, the orange glow penetrating, and I see my reflection in the blaze. My own eyes match his color for color, and my blood stirs up with excitement.

  I don’t wait for him to kiss me. My fire ignites, and I’m too bold for waiting anymore. I take his mouth for myself, and his lips part, a hunger dripping in the musky sweetness of his breath. His helmet hits the ground with a thud, and he drags my body up against his. The heat between us should be unbearable. It isn’t. In one motion, Kane dismounts his bike and peels off his tee-shirt, and his skin flares up, brighter than my own, the orange markings seeping through to stand out on the surface.

  Eyes closed, I sink into the twin flames that mutually consume every pore in our bodies, and I stop thinking. No need for words when the fire speaks for us and the heat grows hotter by the second. I kiss him again, tugging at his lip with my teeth. He pulls away.

  “Jude, slow down.”

  His voice is raspy with desire, my name a faint echo somewhere far away. Kane’s fingers brace my wrists to push me off. I don’t want him to… and he doesn’t want to. I can smell it on him. I press up against him, my lips on his throat, and flick my tongue across his skin. It sears the tip of it, and it feels amazing, and I have no idea where this brazenness is coming from. The Fireblood in me… it just takes over.

  “We probably shouldn’t do this.” His guttural whisper ends in a small groan as he grapples with my hand. My ring bumps into the tip of my finger; I snatch my hand away.

  “Why not, Kane?”

  “Because we may not be able to stop something we start.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to stop.” I slide my hands up the sides of his neck. “And maybe you don’t either.”

  “If the Contingent probes me—”

  “You said it doesn’t matter.” I nibble on his earlobe. Suddenly, in the heat of this moment, none of that matters anymore. “If they probe you, they’ll find me anyway.” I rear back to meet his creased eyes. “So let’s not ruin tonight.”

  I see his mind working, deciding. Even the trees seem to stop their rustling and hover over us in anticipation. He settles back and slips my ring on to his pinkie, pushes it to the first joint where it sticks, then pulls it off and repeats the whole action again. I watch him, my heart pulsing with the memories of last night as Kane gave me a tour of my new self for the first time. But the memory isn’t enough. I want to be there. Again and again, I want to know the beauty of who I really am. The air around us is cooling, and I press closer, cheek to cheek, and send a contrastingly warm whisper into his ear.

  “Let’s forget all of that and just be Firebloods. Just for a little while?”

  He’s perfectly still, but then, his fingers find my hips, and a rustling flutter answers me as he relents. His black wings flail out behind him, shimmering in the darkness and fueling my excitement. My mantra magnifies, sending a vibrating sensation through my whole body, and he gives me an exasperated shake of his head, conquered again by my persistence. You laugh, but I’m dead serious. In fact, I’m not completely positive about this, but I just might have a power over him. Like, he literally can’t resist me. Pretty crazy, huh?

  Okay, I’ll confess right up front that the feeling is mutual. Because I swear, when we collide, our mantras mingling and our fire consuming each other up, Kane O’Reilly is undeniably irresistible. Like now.

  I move in again, my body compressed against his. His dimples pierce his cheeks, the fire in his eyes flares up, and I’ve got him. I’ve squelched his resistance.

  “Only for a little while, Jude.”

  He says this in Jezik—inside my head—while on the outside, he presses his full, burning lips to mine. I hear his mantra then, soft and sultry background noise in my head. I pull at it, towing it toward my own. I feel it the minute he surrenders, and I feel it again when he twists his song into my own. Eyes locked, we bask in the beauty of our shared harmony—the song of the Fireblood. He brushes a lock of windblown hair from my face.

  “If we’re doing this, we might as well go all out. Are you ready to be blown away?”

  “I don’t know.” I whisper, my breath trembling with anticipation. “Am I?”

  The forest darkens inch by inch as the night deepens, and our glowing bodies magnify in the darkness. With a smile, he sweeps me up into his arms.

  “Hold your breath.”

  His wings spread in a huge whoosh of air, and we leave the ground.

  “Wait. We’re doing this?” I cock my head toward him, excitement boiling. “We’re really doing this?”

  He laughs in answer, and I cling to his neck as the creek pulls away beneath us. Kane raises his head. His wings pumping slow and strong, he lifts us above the trees, and we hover there a moment.

  “We’re flying. Oh my gosh, we’re actually flying.”

  The tops of the trees look like a lush carpet in the moonlight, and the creek glints, a silver snake slithering between them. I only have a minute to be baffled before Kane’s arms tighten, and with a single burst of fire off the very tips of his feathers, he shoots straight up into the night sky, his wings laid flat against his back. I do hold my breath then, an excited fear exploding inside me as the stars seem to grow bigger the nearer we approach. It’s freezing for a split second until the warmth emits from Kane’s skin and blows out around us. He slows his speed, angles his body, and glides with smooth ease over the wide world. I’m speechless.

  “There’s your house,” Kane nods.

  It takes me a minute in the moonlight to locate the only Spanish-tiled roof on my block, but there it is, sitting among all the others that line the gray streets. Kane makes a wide turn, pivoting us back toward the direction of the creek.

  “I read that you can fly as high as a jet plane. Is that true?”

  With an ornery lift of his brow, he grins. “Let’s find out.”

  Another burst of light from his feather tips, and we’re racing into the night sky, so close and sparkling with a billion stars under a heavy moon. The air grows thinner and colder and much, much darker. My teeth should be chattering by now; they aren’t. Kane presses on, higher and higher, and the moon, a bright ball of light, is so big. My lungs should be tightening as the remaining oxygen fights to keep me breathing; they aren’t. Because I’m embossed in my own sweet burning flesh, beautifully warm all over. Kane levels out, heat hissing off the ends of his wings. He flaps them once, and a surge of oxygen swarms over us both as hot, orange embers burn through his feathers.

  “See any jets? Because we’ll be in a world of trouble if one sees us.”

  Kane’s words are in my mind. His skin shimmers white. I shake my head, amazed by the beauty of the heavens that stretch out all around us. The clouds wisp past like ghosts, and even the twinkling of lights on the earth below is barely discernable through the haze.

  “I think we’re alone in the world,” I answer.

  “That’s how I feel every time I look at you.”

  On that note, I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. We soar above all of creation, as high as a plane in our Fireblood forms, and I have no words—especially when Kane’s lips find mine.

  I’m pretty sure I will never be able to top this experien
ce. Not even in my dreams.

  Sonata

  Kane and Jude

  “I heard music for the first time the summer before third grade.”

  “I know. Rylin’s music.”

  “Yeah,” I nod. His eyes of fire pierce me. I return the gaze with my own fiery flames. “Why didn’t I hear mine?”

  “You did. You just—” His voice breaks. “No one taught you what to listen for. So you kind of forgot. But it’s always been there.”

  I make myself remember. My mantra floats in a baby’s memory, mingled in with the squeaking of a rocker and the tinny sounds chiming from a mobile of dancing clowns dangling over a crib. I hear it in the strumming of my father’s guitar and the tones inflected in my mother’s voice. I hear it in my own breathing, alive and vibrant. I feel it in every dream I’ve ever had. It tells me exactly who I am from start to finish. I know for certain that it’s been here all along, buried with every other truth my parents kept from me.

  “Did you know what I was?”

  “Not right away.”

  “But you heard my mantra.”

  “Yes.”

  “That didn’t clue you in?”

  “No. Humans can mimic a mantra sometimes.”

  “Really?” I perk up. “How?”

  “It comes natural for musicians. They have a song in their heads most of the time. And some people are just more sensitive to the unnatural. Eclectic-type people, you know? They’re easy to connect with.”

  “Like Frankie.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But me? I’d barely learned to play chopsticks in kindergarten.”

  “I happen to like chopsticks.” He smiles. “And you? You’re musical and eclectic. Musically eclectic.”

  I like that. I snuggle into his feathers.

  “So you can connect with a human.”

  “We can,” he corrects. “Think about your parents.”

  “Mom doesn’t have a musical bone in her body.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We all have a song made up of the parts of our lives. Hers drew your dad, whatever it was.”